


A Manipulation of Pheremones: Part 1

by FiccinDylan



Series: Pocket Full of Stereks [3]
Category: Sterek - Fandom, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Berserk Stiles Stilinski, Character Study, Dopplegangers, Gender Roles, Implied Mpreg, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Pheromones, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-16
Updated: 2018-09-16
Packaged: 2019-07-12 22:36:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16004729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FiccinDylan/pseuds/FiccinDylan
Summary: A new doppleganger goes berserk on Broderek "Mountain Derek" Hale and all Stiles can do is sit back and wait... and reflect.





	A Manipulation of Pheremones: Part 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JennyEllenWicked](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JennyEllenWicked/gifts), [devilscut](https://archiveofourown.org/users/devilscut/gifts), [NakedEye](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NakedEye/gifts).



> OMG you guys, what am I doing?!? 
> 
> Yes, it's another entry in my multiverse which is mostly me naval gazing my way through the alternate realities of these boys. This is probably very confusing and super rambly, but I can't let go of it so here you go, enjoy!
> 
> This is Part 1 and there is a Part 2 which will exist in which Stiles gets a big surprise. I'm posting this as an individual piece since I don't really have a timeline for the next part and this can kind of stand on it's own. Ultimately this will be a story about Stiles relation to gender dynamics as they exist in his universe and the new one where he's planted his heart. 
> 
> Kinda. 
> 
> Yeah.
> 
> I know, I know, if you give it a chance I'm sure you'll enjoy it and it will intrigues= you. Of course if there are any questions hit me up!  
> Here's what you need to know:
> 
> My version of berserk is based on this version (which is fantastic!) - https://archiveofourown.org/works/971008/
> 
> The dopplegangers that appear here are:  
> Genim Stilinski (he's mentioned in the previous versions. Definitely read those before reading this!)  
> Broderek "Mountain Derek" Hale - Also mentioned in the other versions primarily as Mountain Derek. I gave him a name to make it slightly less confusing.  
> Stiles & Derek Original Recipe  
> Pirate Captain Theoderek Hale - a wily pirate Captain from a fic I read where he was suuuuuper rapey. This is referenced in the fic.  
> Lord Mieczyslaw Hale - a young lord who was "tamed" (gross) by Captain Hale
> 
> mentions:  
> Theoderek "Teddy" Hale, also known as "PackDad Derek" in other versions. He is the Derek from my [How the Hale Pack Got It's Groove Back](https://archiveofourown.org/series/193136) verse.  
> CEO Derek - Not fully fleshed out, but slightly based on Office Derek from the [Sick of Your Sh*t](https://archiveofourown.org/series/183581) verse.  
> Serial Killer Sterek which is from a fic I read but have never been able to find again.

It was happening.

In the cold mountain mist, the very dew of the morning where the sun lay just at the cusp of saying hello; it was happening. Right in front of their eyes, in the meadow filled with night blooming flowers that were preparing to take their respite, it was happening.

The young Lord Mieczyslaw ‘ _no you cannot call me_ Mitch _, Stiles!_ ’ Stilinski of the pre-federated Beacon Mounds territories was going berserk. Not in the euphemistic way where someone is declared to be “going crazy” and they simply have an episode of some sort. No, nothing as pedestrian as that. This was real.

Stiles knew as he watched Lord Mitch (Stiles was _definitely_ calling him that) grow in multiples that Stiles couldn’t fathom. He’d seen his own wolf transform but this was a bit of fantasy that to Stiles’ eyes, didn’t make sense, the transformation before him was… impossible? But dammit, Lord Mitch was doing it. He was really going berserk! And he was doing so in defense of the irascible pirate, Captain Theoderek Hale. And not over something as justly foolhardy as ego as these things usually were. Stiles couldn’t imagine the little lord’s actions were a byproduct of how respected he felt by the captain, how much pride the man instilled into him. Captain Hale was a man for whom the word “consent” had not formally entered into his and the young bard considered to be their current day lexicon. And thus Captain Hale, spurred on by tradition and the ambition of conquest sought fit to simply take, instead of ask.

It was rape, is what Stiles thought upon meeting the pair and hearing their story. Lord Mitch placed his hand on top of the Captain’s which was gripping his knee roughly. He looked lovingly at the man and recounted tale after tale in his reedy British lilt, how he tried valiantly to thwart the Captain’s _treachery_ , but Theordek could always smell his desire on him and was helpless to leave that desire without a beholder. And Stiles would cringe while Genim seemed to tune out entirely beside him, visiting another world entirely until the stories of ill-gotten gains were over. And end they did, always tinged with the romance of a kiss, or an additional tale of how Captain Hale had beaten off forces that tried to inhabit their property during their absence. How well he managed the slaves (yikes!) and how he waited on Lord Mitch hand and foot while his womb grew the life of their future.

After the first time that I finally managed to be more, ehh… _malleable_ , would you say? You wouldn’t even let me hold you, you foul curmudgeon. But now I can scarecely leave your sight for fear that I’ve disappeared completely into thin air.”

“Aye, I taught ye good, di’n’t I, wee mate?”

“You certainly did.” And the pair would kiss, as though it’d been perfectly fine and worth it. According to Captain Hale, omegas were meant to be coddled and spoiled like children, but also trained by the rod and disciplined when they became too attached to their wiles. The young Lord Mitch agreed, nearly fretful over his past infractions.

So Stiles sat there flummoxed, hand twitching in the grip of his own Derek who was watching him carefully while maintaining his usual facade of diplomacy and hospitality. Genim remained checked out and Mountain Derek (whose real name turned out to be _Broderek_ ), Genim’s wild-maned counterpart, _stewed_.

It might seem strange that this is the preoccupation Stiles chose, it certainly seems strange to Stiles that this is what’s on his mind while he watches Broderek get beaten to a pulp by the young lord. But there seems to be a longevity to this thing that requires ample distraction if Stiles was going to get through it. If Broderek was.

‘ _He has to_ ’, Stiles thinks. Stiles prays.

He thinks back again to their first meeting. The sea-faring couple finished the tale and looked around the room, seemingly mystified that it lacked the rounds of applause or accolades such a tale usually brought in like company. Instead of cooing adoration, they received a challenge from Broderek. And now the inhabitants of the cabin were watching as the normally formidable alpha takes one hell of a beating.

“You know, I enjoy getting to meet these different versions of us, but after this, we’re closing that shit up for a while.” Stiles says, his worry outweighing his quip as he watches Lord Mitch, the werewolf omega, lash out against Broderek. Genim sits next to him, a bowl of steaming water to his side as his hands shakily smooth the towels and bandages that will soon cover his mate. If they make it to that point. He’s quiet, timorous, his eyes are tear soaked, but focused watching as his Derek… _their_ Broderek takes the blows, refusing to fight back.

Stiles has heard of this, but he’s never seen it before. He was human and despite being an omega himself, Genim was also human. So neither really had an opportunity to see the mythed legend become a reality. For the most part, in the verse that acted as homebase for the rustic couple, omegas were considered the weaker sex. Stiles equated it with the way women were seen in the world he was from- it was the closest comparison - and he made note that a lot of political dynamics played through. The coincidental comparison is that while omegas carried a reputation of muted physical strength, they were often the ones who could prevail in a sticky situation. They had certain wiles, a manipulation of pheromones, that could get them out of scary predicaments if needed, Stiles often saw this as an extension of their inherent femininity.

He’s seen it in play before. Stiles and Genim would be out for a night of dancing in Genim’s verse, Stiles in a nice suit, Genim in a dress and heels so high he and Stiles could see eye to eye where normally Genim stood in bare feet nearly a full head shorter. . Undoubtedly an alpha who’d snorted too much wolfsbane or had too many glasses of fermented poinsettia would try to get too handsy, or in the worst cases they’d try to separate the two and accost Genim directly. Stiles’ scent didn’t really register in this verse. He had one, but it didn’t read as alpha or omega so many times he was just dismissed as a human from another territory. Somewhere close to where Genim was probably originally from. In any case, he wasn’t seen as a threat, and in a world of wolves who used werewolf deterrents like recreational drugs, he wasn’t one.

His greatest weapon was charm and quick wit and it was during the times when Stiles’ own wiles couldn’t buy them enough time to hail a cab, that Genim’s eyes would glow a swirl of blue and red that was close to his purple omega bliss, but not quite. Then he would pump out pheromones that would render their assailants woozy, helplessly amenable and just incapacitated enough to allow them to slip away. Stiles would shake his head as he watched the struggling alphas fall all over themselves, wondering why they were knotting the still air without that omega underneath them. Of course Stiles would watch this from afar, as Genim would turn on his heels, grab Stiles’ hand and they hastily scamper away.

They don’t talk about it really, this innate defense system. Stiles knows it’s because if they start talking about it, they’d have to end at the part where Genim was pushed to maxing out and changed himself into a woman, living that way for 15 years. They’d have to talk about why it existed, this need. Genim was maybe ready for that, but Stiles wasn’t. They were all in a good place. Genim and Broderek loved each other enough to ignore their beginnings and all the times they didn’t. Stiles and Genim were inseparable and as such Stiles flowed seamlessly between the mountain version of Derek and his own, just as Genim did. The dynamics were just different enough that no one felt slighted or left out in the arrangement. It wasn’t uncommon for Stiles to wake up in the arms of Broderek, tangling his nomadic fingers through his whorls of chest hair, as Genim stood at the stove turning bacon in a frying pan with Derek behind him, tucked into his neck. Or sometimes Stiles would go to his house and find Broderek reading a bedtime story to one of the kids while Derek and Genim lazily fucked in the shower.

As a side note, Genim _loves_ their shower. Genim and Broderek live (aptly) in the mountains. An idyllic setting with snow capped peaks in the distance and green, lush hills and valleys engulfed by forests resplendent in vert and venison. They had everything they needed, though some of the modern technological advances held little value to them. They had a record player, but no TV, no electronics or handhelds. They only had a phone to communicate with their children who were going to school in the city, but otherwise they lived off the land. Which was wonderful. They lived in a Mary Poppins-style cabin that looked quaint and cosy on the outside, but was large and spacious on the inside. Stiles could never get his mind around the architecture (or why there was a portal inside that led back to his world) so he just shrugged it off until it was second nature to him. At any rate, it was just the right size with a generous expanse of mountains and land that stretch on for miles. Stiles’ Derek and Broderek would frequently shift and spend hours prowling through the forests and hills. Stiles and Genim would join them sometimes, naked and prone, soaking in the sun and greenery, splashing in the lake or nearby streams and being generally feral and free.

It was a wonderful release, this escapade into nature, but Stiles and Genim at heart were human and city kids at that. They held the all too familiar human curiosity to make things easier and more comfortable or at the very least more _indoors_. In Genim’s home, Derek created an outdoor shower system, but it was generally unheated though the water was always pleasantly warmed during the day by the sun. Any other bathing was done in the streams or lakes that surrounded them. Genim grew up with a shower, but that all changed when he surrounded himself with wolves. He didn’t mind it, but he nearly squealed the first time he saw Derek and Stiles’ bathroom. It was gifted to them by Derek’s uncle Peter in a strange sort of recompense for past damages. It was the kind of gift that only made up for past offenses because it existed. No reparations were expected so the idea of getting anything, even an elaborate and lavishly remodeled bathroom… well, it would do. It had multiple heads and jets and was large and spacious with wooden teak benches flanking the glass walls and rubberized, no-slip, heated flooring.

Stiles would sometimes find Genim alone, sitting inside, just letting the water pour over him. They had to get a tankless water heater specifically for their bathroom and the water bill was sky high, but it was worth it for Stiles to see the bliss on Genim’s face. He recalls being woken up some early Saturday morning with a sleepy _‘hello_!’ and then suddenly hearing the water going. He used to check the clock, noting the strange hours Genim’s whims held, but after a while it all became second nature. He’d be sleeping, reading a book, riding his mate and he’d see the blur of Genim on his way to their bathroom and he’d smile. Genim so rarely got to indulge in nice things, so rarely got to partake in the indulgence of entitlement. Stiles liked when he was bitchy and demanding because everyone should get to be at some point in their lives. Everyone gets to act like they deserve it, even if only once, over a shower.

Maybe that’s another reason their arrangement works for them. They’d been careful from the start, to not treat their doppelgangers as substitutes. Stiles didn’t go to Broderek because he had something Stiles couldn't get in his own Derek. It wasn’t about showing Derek up or trying to send the message that he wasn’t being fulfilled. It was more about… exploration.

Even though they all kind of favored each other, there were enough differences in their presentations to distinguish each pair from the other. Stiles noticed that all of the Derek’s were capable of teary emotional depth in their eyes, but the source of that pathos varied and thus their reactions varied. When Stiles tells his own Derek he loves him, Derek’s face lights up and his smile invades like a conquering hero as he returns the sentiment first through words and then through action.

When Stiles tells Broderek, he stills. He watches Stiles’ eyes, waiting for the turn, trepidation furls in his brow and then he seems to realize the damage this fear has done to him through the hours, the days, the decades, and his whole face is defeated until he can scarcely nod. And sometimes he’ll say ‘ _thank you_ ’ and Stiles is nearly broken. And sometimes he’ll say ‘I love _you_ ’, like it’s proof.

_“Please will your honor accept Exhibit A: my love? Let the record show, it is tainted, but no less true.”_

And before Stiles can cry or protest or even tease the older wolf out of his morose seriousness, Broderek’s lips are on Stiles’ lips and his cock is between his thighs and his finger is in or near his asshole and he knows Broderek loves him back.

There’s a certain kind of propriety between them all as well. Stiles calls his Derek, _his_ Derek for clarification sake, but really they all belong to him and he to them. In a way that Teddy doesn’t really belong to Stiles’ Derek, even though they are best friends. No, Stiles and his Derek, and Genim and Broderek all belong to each other. Broderek is their alpha, which is confusing even without the alpha/omega sex dynamics of it all. But deep inside, inherently, intrinsically they know it. They were set apart and Stiles isn’t sure why, but again… there’s a portal to this world from his and it starts in Stiles and Derek’s house and lets out in Genim and Broderek’s. Be it fate or happenstance, Stiles doesn’t care to question.

Mostly because this world has so many other, more pressing things to ponder, that Stiles tries not to get caught up in the minutia. Not until it really affects his present, the way this berserker thing is, as he watches the skin get filleted from Broderek… _his_ Broderek.

Now is a good time to question. To pull the pot from the back burner and place it over the fire to boil over. Now is the time to wonder about some of the things that have niggled at him from time to time as he watches his heart get squeezed, wrung out by a rabid animal beast who seems to be deciding whether or not he wants to kill his food, or play with it for a while longer.

Things like… _Bitch_. It was a word that Stiles grew up having a somewhat complicated relationship with. He knew it meant female dog and when he was young it was seen as a pejorative to women. But then somewhere during his pre-teen years, there was a kind of reclamation to rid the word of its power. It was moderately successful and now bitch could be explained away as a cultural pushpin, a slangy term that changes meaning depending on the context, the inflection. It carried a different weight in Genim’s verse entirely though. There it was nearly a compliment, at the very least a designation; all omegas were bitches. Carried over from the days where all omegas really _were_ bitches; female wolves who bore cubs for their mates. When humans began to enter the picture, and then male omegas at that, the term stuck.

The alphas use it casually, ‘ _my bitch and I have been mated for 10 years’, ‘my bitch isn’t here right now, she went to the store’, ‘my bitch is bringing his mother, he’ll want two seats, thank you’_. They flow seamlessly between male and female pronouns as though they were reciting the alphabet, or an ancient druid prayer. In this world, Stiles does a little bit of mental gymnastics, but all in all he gets it. It’s when they’re back home and he hears Derek sneak and call Genim his bitch that he sometimes ceases to function. On one hand, it’s fucking hot, but on the other hand… does Derek call Stiles _his_ bitch? Is Stiles a bitch? He’s had one of their kids, but Derek has had all the rest. Wouldn’t Derek be the bitch in their situation? Does that make him an omega? Can he go berserk? Stiles thinks that no, that couldn’t be possible, his Derek is physically strong and ferocious as a beast, he wouldn’t need to go berserk, but Stiles might.

Sometimes Stiles will hear Derek talking to his own best friend who they know as Packdad Derek though he insists they call him Teddy. His real name is coincidentally also Theoderek (Stiles wonders how many different versions of Derek there could be, and if he’s fucked them all) but he was named after his dad who also went by the cuddly sobriquet. Stiles will see the two -normally huddled together in their own ‘puppy pile’ of sorts- gossiping or being generally immature and inappropriate. He would hear his Derek say something about _bitch_ and Teddy would look at him, nodding casually and adding something like, _‘your bitch loves the shower? My bitch loves the bath, can’t get her out of the thing most times, but shit she’s so hot and slick after, I don’t mind the wait_.” And he and Derek giggle and Derek will tell his side of sliding his soapy bitch along the shower wall and Stiles wonders where that comes from, the instant familiarity? Just knowing that’s how things are and resting so comfortably in the lexicon? Stiles slips up constantly, but Derek has fit into the comfort of Genim’s omeganess like a warm glove on a cold winter’s day.

There’s something foreign about it that Stiles just can’t seem to get over. He wonders if it’s a human thing; Genim’s comfort seems to lie in his experience. He’s acclimated well enough. Sometimes it will catch Genim off guard when Stiles calls him a sexy bitch, or even a greedy fucking bitch when Genim shoves Stiles’ head back between his legs. But Genim has always known how to adapt more quickly than Stiles does. He understands the mocking the word holds in Stiles’ verse, the negative connotations it carried in his own human world from those who were ill-intentioned. He knew to bristle when they’d be out for a walk in Stiles’ world and some rogue nobody would tell him to ‘ _get out of the way you fucking bitch!’_ , but he also knew to nod and smile when Broderek introduced him as such, and to laugh when Stiles said it to him in jest. Genim knew that through Stiles, the phrase ‘ _you’re such a dirty bitch_ ’ when said with the essence of Genim’s slick on his tongue, wasn’t a deterrent, but rather a plea to continue doing what he was doing because he could and he knew Stiles loved him.

This was most important to Stiles, that Genim knew that Stiles loved him. It’s why he was able to put a lot of his questioning on the back burner in the first place. As much as it confused and enthralled him, he loved this. He loves his house, and the portal, and the cabin. And the same with Genim, and his Derek and the same with Broderek. Stiles has a lot of love to give and he doles it out in large denominations. He loves and he wouldn't trade it for the world except now, at this moment he might. If it would get Lord Mitch to stop killing his alpha, his love. If it would stop the waves of utter impotent helplessness that crested and broke over him as he watches Broderek get beaten so badly.

They couldn’t interfere. Once an omega goes berserk, the only thing you can do is stay out of the way. Many have made the mistake of trying to fight back and the only thing accomplished was a waste of tranq darts, bullets and spears. The berserk change is supposed to be the extreme of self defense tactics that works in somewhat the same way a bee with a stinger does. You really only get one shot and you’ve got to make it good, because it leaves you vulnerable and weakened on the other side. This is what Genim will tell Stiles later as they care for Broderek and Stiles can scarcely believe it as their alpha lies before them bloody and barely breathing while Lord Mitch is still in berserker form, licking clean the wounds of his own alpha. But Genim assures him. Tells him the only true control the omega has while going berserk is at the beginning of the shift when locking in the decision to kill or simply maim.

Stiles hopes Lord Mitch’s decision was the latter. Even later, when they’re caring for Derek all the way until Stiles sees his body finally begin to knit itself back together, and even then he hopes. But especially now, as the wounds are produced in the first place. This final defense of the omega is the most brutal from any of the representations, alpha or beta. And it’s feared as much as it is awe-inducing. Stiles can’t believe it even got this far that Lord Mitch felt so threatened to play this card. The night had started simply enough, though Genim was noticeably perturbed. The pirate captain was a brute of a man, and while normally general bombastic behavior doesn’t bother him, it was the bullish undertones that did. Broderek asked Genim for something small, Stiles can’t even remember what it was, he wasn’t even sure he heard it, but he had heard when Genim said no. He also heard when Captain Hale mocked Broderek openly, when he chided the alpha for letting his _bitch_ speak to him in such a manner, in front of company even! And then began to regale the tales of how he courageously rid his young lord of his insolent behavior via methods that could only be described (by Stiles mostly) as “ _super rapey, dude_ ”. And Captain Hale bemoaned having to break his little darling, when Stiles knew really his frustration was his inability to trust the young lord enough to show his vulnerabilities. He couldn’t very well show his weakness to someone he respected now could he?

So he sought to “fluff” the young lord, so to speak. Punch him and mold him and manipulate him until he became a pleasing shape for the captain to rest his feet on. It made Stiles’ sick. Stiles tried subtly, but he couldn’t convince the young lord of his “personhood” or the fact that he had a say in the way his life played out. That he didn’t have to be a pawn in a game where Captain Hale and _society_ tried to convince him he’d made his own decisions. He and Genim had seen the fringes of their pairings before, there was once a set of serial killers that went after women who looked like Kate… it was… _disturbing_ and Genim and Stiles left that verse quickly and Stiles tried to find a way to magic a lock to keep the door to that particular portal closed. But even in that blood soaked menagerie the love between the two killers was very real and reverential, albeit manically so.

The love between Lord Mitch and Captain Hale was… _problematic_ , and it made Stiles shudder. Especially since -through the sterek of it all- there’s enough comparison to Broderek and Genim’s situation to at least encourage an eyebrow raise.

Broderek’s and Genim’s history casts a pall on the state of things only muddying the waters. Broderek met Genim when he came home one day and found the omega in his cabin, locked in the throes of heat. He allowed his instinct to take over and bred him during the 3 day heat. Then he disappeared, leaving alone his future mate and their burgeoning child for a length of time that neither will ever expose, though Stiles knew it was long enough that Genim was forced to deliver his baby himself. In a wooden washing tub he’d found as he searched the desolate cabin for anything to make due.

Stiles is Stiles so of course he thinks about it from time to time. He’s learned the gestation period for omegas is only six months as opposed to nine in his world. And while that gives him a little bit of solace - the parameters - it also fills him with a wary sense of gloom. He can’t imagine that Broderek would be gone from his mate and his first born that long, but the way that Genim tells it (and the way Broderek won’t deny), there’s a lot about the beleaguered alpha Stiles can’t imagine from that time.

They’ve... come as close to moving past it as they were going to - maybe they’ve moved next door to it and they closed the shade - so Stiles decides it’s okay to let it go for now. He’s found he’s done that more here in the last few years than he’s ever done to that point -let things go- and he’s not entirely sure if that’s good or bad.

A roar pulls Stiles back into focus as he sees Broderek desperately trying withstand the brunt of Lord Mitch’s assault. He eyes Captain Hale, still passed out in wolf form. He wonders if he could wake him up, to see the carnage his mate was doing. At most maybe he could get him to stop, at least it might instill some fear into the captain. He feels a warm firm grip on his forearm and follows the arm back up to Genim’s eyes. Genim shakes his head subtly. Stiles nods back in kind.

He knows. Of course Genim knows. He’s probably known since the captain arrived at their doorstep with this mate kicking and screaming over his shoulder. As the captain threw Lord Mitch down on the couch and began to ravish him, the air filled with a chorus of “no’s” and “stop’s” met with a symphony of dubious laughter. The captain was showing off and the young lord was the spectacle. Stiles didn’t notice it then, but he sees it now in hindsight, the way that Broderek and Genim shivered as they watched.

Broderek _hated_ Captain Hale, hates Lord Mitch and hates that their stories have even the slightest thing in common. Though the commonality of acts of intimacy performed with little more than dubious consent isn’t much more than slight, it’s enough to wrestle every insecurity Broderek keeps tethered about the situation. Genim resisted Derek’s advances at first, but the heat was too strong for either of them to resist. Lord Mieczyslaw thought the pirate captain to be beneath his station and would balk whenever the scallywag would try sully him. When the captain succeeded, over and over again (‘ _seriously, dude, sooo rapey!’_ ), Lord Mieczyslaw would balk and go into hostile fits which would only hurt and enrage the captain. When Genim roused from his heat he rejected Broderek, told him to leave and never return and so Broderek did. When Lord Mitch asked the captain to hold him, the captain laughed in his face, his spittle still smelling of the young lord’s sour slick. It wasn’t the same, but it was close enough for Broderek.

He was stupid, and obstinate and stubborn, and when Broderek looked at Captain Hale, he saw a mirror image though not in physical features. With the other Derek’s, Broderek shares the angst of loss, but with Captain Hale he shared a theft. A theft of consent that angered Broderek so much that he couldn’t stand to see the smug bastard’s face, because to Broderek -in a very small way- he and the captain are the same, Broderek knows his show of bravado is just that, a mask. He knows the captain wants to lay prone to Lord Mitch, but his pride won’t allow him to. He knows the young, slight lord scares the holy hell out of the captain but Captain Hale’s decided that he can’t afford to praise and treasure his omega without emasculating himself. And so Broderek did what Broderek does when he’s annoyed as shit and a little drunk on fermented poinsettia. He decides to antagonize the shit out of Lord Mieczyslaw.

It’s not hard, Broderek has his moments of saucy impudence and he knows niggling at Lord Mitch will activate Captain Hale’s protective streak. Maybe the Captain would challenge Derek to a fight and Derek would get to kick his ass a little. That could be fun, and Broderek would get the added benefit of mussing up the little lord a bit. Lord Mieczyslaw was a mouthy, fey little thing with a ponytail held in place by a sharktooth clip boasting mother of pearl and diamond accents. He thought Broderek to be a brute based on looks alone. Not surprisingly, the little lord’s favorite doppelganger was CEO Derek who wore power suits and was meticulously metrosexual. They came from completely different eras, but he found the “Power Beta” to be more to his liking, clean and lean, hairless yet foreboding. Broderek suggested that maybe Lord Mieczyslaw call it a fucking day and just go after CEO Derek, but Mieczyslaw scoffed at the idea that he would be with anyone but the surly captain.

_‘He may be insufferable and umm… how did you say it, Stiles... a complete felon? But he is my mate and the business between us has been settled with more of my dignity in tact than is normally granted to an omega of my particular station. I am wont for a provider and Captain Hale has shown himself to be remarkably adept in this area. While Chief Executive Derek holds a certain fascination, it is the irascible Captain who stows away in my heart.’_ Then he slapped Broderek on the face twice and shooed him away. Broderek… was not a fan and Captain Hale laughed at him for his attempts.

‘ _Aye! The little lord thought he best wait out the wiles of a curmudgeon such as meself, but I reckon ‘is dungbie will sport a different view on these matters when I be done wit’ ‘er!’_ then he slapped Broderek - _hard_ \- on the back, and grabbed Lord Mitch by the throat before sticking his tongue down it. Stiles groaned, and saw Broderek regrouping.

Broderek realized that he had it backwards. He should antagonize the Captain and then watch as the captain became embarrassed when his lowly bitch came to his defense. Something he could tell the captain craved, but was loathe to admit. The embarassment of giving the captain exactly what he wanted. Pressure through pleasure, it was a new angle, but it was something Broderek could work with. So the next night Broderek decided he was going to have to openly agitate the pirate captain. It wasn’t hard. Derek didn’t even need to say words, he simply shoved the captain and the fight began. As if on cue, Lord Mieczyslaw began yelling all manner of undignified obscenity at Broderek who smiled as he saw the shifting emotions in Captain Theoderek’s eyes. The pride and desire giving way to shame and insecurity. It was delicious on Broderek’s tongue and he got greedy. He decided to get a better look and clamped his hands around the captain’s throat causing the sailor’s eyes to bug slightly. Both partially shifted and the others in the room stood around watching, trying to make sense out of the spontaneous drama.

Then slowly, as Broderek began to triumph; mounds of fur, and teeth flying around the room painting it with splatters of blood, Mieczyslaw began to change. Genim noticed first, and valiantly ushered everyone into the out of doors. As Broderek and the captain tumbled outside, Lord Mitch’s change continued. It started gradually, his clenching fists locked at his sides as his eyes began to glow a very eerie shade of orange. When omegas were blissed out their eyes would bleed purple, when simply content they would shine an orangey type of yellow - nearly like a beta, but more distinct. But when enraged, the omega gaze would burn bright fiery orange, like a mixture of their serene yellow bolstered by the powerful red of their flailing alphas. Mieczyslaw’s eyes burned and his teeth elongated and his bones began to stretch and groan, cracking into place to create the monster he was now before them.

There was no other word for it. It was larger than a wolf and could be said to mimic the alpha form while in beta shift. This was a strong bastardization of that though, as teeth became gnarled and gnashing and the fur sparse and thin, over stretched over a frame it wasn’t meant to accommodate. As Mieczyslaw grew, Broderek ceased beating on the captain and conferred with the beast now in front of him. There wasn’t a moment of hesitation per se, but almost a reckoning, an act of contrition pleading with Mieczyslaw to see the true desire behind the wolf’s actions. Going berserk wasn’t common, it wasn’t something done like a flight of fancy, but Broderek underestimated the innate drama that someone like Lord Mitch lived in as his constant. Of course Lord Mitch went berserk! It was supposed to be a one time thing, but hell, he’d probably done it before. Not against the captain, certainly, but maybe against that army that tried to take his land, or perhaps a dog that looked at him with the wrong cock of head.

And now, as they sat watching the berserk monster put down Broderek, striping its claws -wet and sticky with the blood of their alpha- through his skin like it were paper, they wonder what choice the berserker made before going under. Genim remained stoic, watching dutifully, ready to jump in when it was done with. He couldn’t go berserk himself, not in a way that would make a difference, and you can’t go berserk for an alpha that’s not yours, so none of the other omegas present could help. They could all only sit and watch… and wait.

Stiles cried. Silent, confusion soaked tears fell down his cheeks as he bemoaned the one time his brain fell silent and his tongue stood still. What could he say? What could he do? Derek sat next to him with a hand on his knee watching him until Stiles finally had to push his cheek away, towards the carnage, but still away from the wreck. And so in the sprinkling moments of dawn, Stiles cried, and Genim prepared and Lord Mitch beat the life out of their alpha until he finally stopped.

The young lord peeled himself off of the grisled wolf and then howled long and sorrowful into the night. He scooped the pirate captain into his arms and ran into the forest to care for his betrothed. It would be 6 days before they saw either of them again and when they returned they would be in an unmistakable state of joy and bonded bliss. Captain Hale finally lain vulnerable enough for Mieczyslaw to care for him. Mieczyslaw finally being able to see the worth of the man underneath the pirate black. The two would thank Broderek and attempt to make amends with treasure and an invitation to the open seas. Aside from a few baubles that caught Genim’s eye, all other methods of compensation would be politely declined. The maritime couple would head back to their verse to reclaim Beacon Mounds from the treachery of the Argent helmed government and return it to the locals and pirates to which it belonged.

Now though, back on the mountain, in the once peaceful cabin, lay the body of a werewolf bloodied and torn. He was being cleaned methodically by Genim who would saturate a towel with blood before wringing it out and grabbing another. The healing was slow, an agent in the omega’s claws while going berserk saw to it. Broderek could feel every stripe, and every stitch as his body attempted to mend itself back together. Genim heated another bowl of water and Stiles watched. He was shaken to the core, but pinned entirely to the place he was. He was scared, he was _angry_ , he had so many questions but more pressingly, he had a broken heart. For Stiles, self sacrifice was bullshit when literally every other option existed. He’d broken his own Derek of his seemingly eternal martyrdom, but he forgot that despite the optimistic changes, Broderek still had a shitload of baggage. Baggage that Stiles had forgotten to show him how to unpack. Perhaps it was winter fare and summer was upon them so they decided to wait? Let the baggage sit under the bed while they fucked on top of it, tank tops pushed into armpits and short-shorts hanging off of the tips of their toes.

And Stiles, like an idiot, got caught in a storm unprepared.

It’s day six, and today things are better. After Genim completed cleaning the wounds of the wolf he added a salve that Stiles created to abet the healing. He’s been awake nearly every minute of the last six days and he’s running on empty. Broderek shifts into a wolf and Genim helps him outside as they pad towards the stream. Derek grabs Stiles and helps him to stand up, and he doesn’t say anything when Stiles collapses against him, sobs wracking his exhausted frame. He simply picks the young man up in his arms and carries him home. Stiles stays in bed the next three days, morose and contemplative, and the morning of the fourth day he wakes up with a renewed energy and overdone anger.

“That self sacrificing son of a bitch!”

He charges past Derek who is at the stove preparing food and past their children who watch him quietly from the table. He storms down the hall and through the portal into the cabin, an accusatory finger already pointed at the fully mended wolf sitting at his table. He looks tired and worn as he sits sipping on some concoction that Genim created. Genim turns from the sink, ready as though Stiles’ arrival was anticipated, or needed.

Both.

Stiles meets eyes with Genim and sees the concession and so he huffs, frustrated, slamming both hands on to the top of the table and pokes Broderek directly in his chest. From the corner of his eye he can see his Derek enter the room. Genim goes to him and leads him back to his own verse to get the kids ready for school.

Broderek grabs Stiles’ finger and attempts to kiss the back of his hand, but Stiles pulls back in anger. Broderek isn’t surprised, he knows, and he doesn’t care. He reaches out again to pull the man to him, but again Stiles resists.

“You self sacrificing son of a bitch!” is all he can get out, all he even knows how to say anymore before the tears begin.

And they don’t stop.

Not when he lunges angry fists wildly at Broderek, and not when Broderek catches those fists and uses them to bring the impudent young man into a tight and stifling embrace. They don’t stop. Stiles cries and his nose burns and he can’t see, but he can feel the rough of Broderek’s tongue lapping at his cheek. He imagines the bitter saltiness on Broderek’s tongue and the guilt of causing his alpha any type of discomfort makes him cry more. It’s the recognition of this station that does him in. It makes him understand that he loves Broderek exceptionally yet without condition. And he remembers that Broderek loves him back. The bite Broderek gave him months ago pulsates with heat as Stiles battles in his confinement, pushing at the wall that surrounds him, trying desperately to surrender if only the wolf would let him go.

Finally, the wolf concedes, allowing himself to be pushed back on the bed, not being given nearly enough time to acclimate himself to the new position before Stiles is on him; straddling the wolf and kissing him fiercely while grinding his own formidable erection into Broderek’s fist as Broderek claws his clothes off. He’s not sure when he got hard, he wonders if maybe he was before he even came over. It was something he could (and would) ponder later, but now there was making up to do.

It maybe wasn’t so much making up as it was a mutual engagement of indulgence. In all the fantasy of their lives, they had a moment of reality that threatened their future. When werewolves in this verse get to a certain age, they give in fully to their wolves and spend the rest of their lives in the wild. It’s kind of a heavenly purgatory before slipping through to Valhalla and it’s cherished by weres. Genim will be turned when it’s time, and join Derek, staying at his side in his final days. Stiles knows this and prepares himself for Broderek’s departure even though it’s still decades off.

He couldn’t have prepared for this, the reminder of mortality even in this supernatural world. As Broderek’s claws tear through the fabric of his sleep pants, all Stiles can imagine are the young lord’s claws tearing through his alpha, his Broderek, _his_.

The scraps fly off around him in a rage as Stiles attempts to climb the wolf, mounting him in his own way, he climbs. His knee is on Broderek’s shoulder and his foot is on the wolf’s thigh and Broderek lifts him even higher suddenly before ridding him of what’s left of his pants and laying back on the bed. Stiles flops inelegantly on top of him, still suffering from tear blindness and trying to get his bearings. He flails like a fish out of water until Broderek takes one hand and braces his hip and uses the other to squeeze the back of Stiles’ neck hard.

Stiles makes a sound like he’s lost his breath and he journeys down Broderek’s body to find it. He buries his face between Broderek’s burley pecs and drags his tongue through the jungle of hair and sweat and newly knitted skin, inhaling as he descends. He can feel Broderek fisting his hair and the movement makes him buck his hips, grinding his erection inelegantly against the man beast. He wipes his tears away using Broderek’s wrists and then looks at the man, almost manically cataloguing where each scar should have been. He wonders if Derek can feel it beneath his skin. He wonders what the ramifications of forgetting are.

“Damn you, Broderek. You fucking mountain lion of a man. I fucking love you so-” Stiles is stopped short when Broderek cups his face between his hands and startles him silent. They’re warm and calloused and Stiles wants them on his ass, but he also kind of wants to kick Broderek’s ass and he wonders where this desire to make love to the wolf is coming from when only moments ago he wanted to flay his carcass himself. He’s had hate-sex before. He remembers fucking another universe’s version of Peter. The Hales had all been scientists in that verse and were alive and happy. Plant Derek was a botanist and Green Thumb Stiles (there were a lot of verses and Stiles was running out of pithy monikers) was the gardener for the lab. Science Peter was wickedly smart and charming, with just enough of a power hungry edge that Stiles didn’t feel bad fucking him hard and making him feel confused, cheap and used after. He never told Derek though he’s sure he knows, he’s never gone back to that verse and they’ve never ventured into theirs.

That analogy doesn’t fully add up, Stiles presumes as Broderek flips them smoothly, laying his heavy blanket of a body on top of Stiles and snuffling his neck while his hand roams deftly between Stiles’ legs. They splay as wide as they’ve ever gone -Stiles’ mind conjures the word “akimbo” thought he knows it’s not entirely right- and Broderek begins to prod at Stiles’ hole. He sits up and grabs the lube from some hidden location as Stiles anchors a leg over Broderek’s shoulder and another in the crook of his elbow and works his abs, bringing his lips to any part of the wolf he can reach.

No, this wasn’t hate-sex; Stiles could never hate Broderek. But what was it? What was this burning desire, this incessant need to love and care for his alpha? Stiles is sure he shouldn’t be kissing this man, rewarding him, he should be kicking his ass! But since he can’t he wonders if getting fucked will give him the same satisfaction? Can he tame him with kindness? The kindness of his asshole?

“Unngh _fuck_ , right there, you fucking bear! Dammit, Brod, how dare you-” Stiles loses his mind a bit as Broderek manipulates his prostate with the now three meaty fingers inside of his hole. He’ll need more, they’re not there yet and it suddenly comes to Stiles that more fingers are never going to be enough. That Broderek was going to split him open and fuck if Stiles wasn’t going to let him. _Fuck_ if Stiles didn’t _need_ it, to his very core. His body was feverishly hot and he was sweating and he should stop and get some water and some fresh air, but he won’t. He’s going to pierce himself on the pole of Broderek’s dick and he didn’t know why and for once he didn’t fucking care.

He wonders if this is how Genim felt when he and Broderek first met? Genim in the throes of heat, Broderek confused and overwhelmed. Was their desire genuine? Or was it some manipulation of pheromone? Was this real? This very moment?

“Are you for fucking real!?” he cries as he digs his nails into Broderek’s back, bracing himself as Broderek enters him, not slowly, but not too fast either. It’s just right. Was it right when it was with-

“T-tell me you’re okay? Do- do you need me to take away the p-pa-” A drop of Derek’s sweat falls into Stiles’ mouth and it’s only then that he realizes he’s been silent screaming, letting his breath escape raggedly through his esophagus allowing room for moans and curses alike. He shuts his mouth and swallows hard, shaking his head, sweat flying from his forehead.

“No, don’t you fucking dare, I want you, Brod, I want all of you. You fucking owe me all-”

Broderek’s cock is usually too big, but this time it fits perfect. Fills in every fear, every self doubt, even as his knot expands. Where normally Stiles’ organs would be fighting for dominance, today they embrace the intrusion like a warm hug. Stiles swears his eyeballs are floating and his teeth rattle and everything is okay as his broken pieces mend back together again. He wonders if this is what it’s like for the wolves when they heal. Wonders if that’s why they don’t mind the threat.

Stiles is usually more verbal, but all he can get out are snot-lined obscenities and threats. “ _Fuck me you fucking-”, “I’ll kill you myself if you ever-”, “I’ll go berserk you piece of-”, “I fucking love you so much, make love to me!”_

“I love you too, Stiles. So fucking much, I’m so sorry, sweet-”

“No!” Stiles yells inelegantly thrashing his head back and forth. “No! Fuck you, fuck your sorry, don’t apologize.” He beats at the man’s chest with one hand while trying to hold him close with the other.

Stiles doesn’t want to hear Broderek’s sorry, not because it’s not necessary -it’s completely necessary- but he would never accept it fully as being sincere or even true. He knows Broderek would intend it to be, but Stiles has had ample time to assess the situation and he knows that Broderek hadn’t meant to incite the little lord that much, but his survival did seem to fill him with a renewed sense of definition and purpose. He was a fucking alpha and he had the battle wounds to prove it. Even if they were all internal.

There was a newfound pride there and Stiles wanted to ride it, needed to feel his alpha’s strength after such a harrowing defeat. He didn’t want a morose, repentant alpha, he wanted a strong, formidable provider. He wanted the pressure of Broderek’s pleasure.

“Make me your bitch, alpha!” Stiles demands, squeezing hard on the alpha’s knot and watching as his eyes pulsate a fiery red. “Mate me, fuck me, breed me, fuck me!” he barely knows what he’s saying, it’s like his mouth and body are on autopilot, as though he’s shed his own skin the way Broderek had. His new skin is of this new world, in this very moment, this day, this hour, this second, this nanosecond; in the inches, the centimeters, the millimeters between them, he’s a part of here now and it’s his home on this side of the portal just as it is on the other.

And then Broderek’s knot grazes his prostate, pushing it into his spleen or his gallbladder or whatever the fuck is up to down there and Stiles’ eyes roll in the back of his head and he passes out, knowing fully his alpha will catch him.

It turns into days, probably less than Stiles imagines, but definitely more than he probably has rights to. He can’t keep his hands off of Broderek, can’t let the alpha out of his sight though Broderek doesn’t seem to mind as long as Stiles is happy. They spend the days tangled in each other, Stiles embedded in Broderek’s lap as they listen to music on Stiles’ phone. Or their fingers entangled as they help one of the kids with their homework back in Stiles’ verse. Even when Stiles and Derek make love, he knows Broderek is nearby, he can feel him in a way he wasn’t able to before. He knows and if he tries to stray Stiles pulls him back in with a mere thought. One time Stiles gasped and Derek thought it was his dick, but really Broderek had went out the front door to the street. Seconds later Stiles heard the ice cream truck and exhaled and he looked and saw Derek smiling, pleased with himself.

“Yes, baby, you’re so fucking good, Der!” he assures his love and Derek begins to move again, preening at how well he was providing for his mate.

Derek seems oblivious, but Genim knows, Stiles can tell. He watches him watching them and a part of him wants to stop. To stop stealing Broderek, but he can’t. This isn’t how they usually are. They share, but they have their own mates first, and then each other. Stiles is hogging Broderek and he would be more pressed but he thinks maybe Genim doesn’t mind? He’s learned to speak up when he’s pissed, Stiles has shown him that his voice matters and Genim has exercised this option many times and yet now, when Stiles refuses to leave Broderek’s embrace - when he wakes up in Broderek’s bed and follows the wolf into the woods and they lie together near the side of the brook, Genim remains silent.

Stiles wonders if maybe it’s just a matter of experience and Genim is used to this since living in the world of wolves. Maybe Genim is conditioned. Stiles hopes so, it’s all he can do because he can’t stop. When the wolf goes downwind, something in Stiles’ chemistry shifts, something in his biology tenses and he find himself stopping mid sentence until he can smell the outdoors again. The crisp, dew soaked leaves and the mossy musk of his alpha, it’s in his blood now and he needs it like air.

And when Stiles pauses, Genim pauses too, knowingly. He waits patiently, holding Stiles’ hand until he catches himself and finishes his sentence or continues going down on Genim or whatever it was they were up to. For days… so many days, Stiles is in a state of discombobulation. He feels like he’s lucid dreaming, but this is his fucking life.

As time passes, the desperation ebbs, but not nearly enough for Stiles’ liking. He’s able to stay at home now, though he does feel a sense of panic occasionally in the night. Derek reaches out and draws him in, holding him tightly until he goes under again. Stiles is less than comforted, but it helps. In the morning, after the kids are off and Derek goes to visit Teddy, Stiles will head back to the other verse to get his fix. He sometimes finds Broderek at the sink, or at the table, dressing some kill. He may be outside or he may still be in bed. It doesn’t matter, he’s always there. Stiles will go to him and hold him, very tight and for very long before kissing him languidly soaking in the scent and taste of the man, making sure to saturate himself in the alpha’s scent. They stand like that for minutes, maybe even hours, kissing and holding each other, each resting in their own pause until Stiles can breathe again.

“I feel fucking co-dependent!” He complains to Genim one day. Even though Genim is directly affected by his selfishness, he’s also still Stiles’ very best friend. They talk about everything.

“Well, I know it’s a bit new to you, but people in your condition often feel that way, Stiles. I wouldn’t put it high on your list of worries. Broderek doesn’t mind.”

‘ _Do you mind?_ ’ is what Stiles wants to ask, but can’t bring himself too, and Genim isn’t very forthcoming with the assurances. He’s darning socks, socks that belong to Stiles and Derek’s kids because all of Genim’s children are grown up and out of the house. ‘ _They stay young for so long!’_ Genim once remarked excitedly, watching Stiles’ hellion brood wreak havoc on their living room. Genim was delighted and Stiles was happy for the free childcare.

“I feel like a pussy! The cat, not the, not a-” Stiles tries to think of a way to explain, but Genim just rolls his eyes.

“Why do you feel like a cat?”

“A kitten! A newborn kitten, a small tiny thing in this big world and Brod is the one who found me in a street grate-”

“Now you’re a street grate cat?”

“Fuck you, you know what I mean!” Stiles pouts as Genim flips him off with a grin.

“Stiles, you’re going to be feeling that way for a while, all of this is perfectly normal, I assure you. How was it with Derek?”

Stiles thinks back to the last time Derek was a self sacrificing ass and he realizes they weren’t together yet so he shrugs. “Derek’s never done anything this extreme.”

Genim places the sock he’s working on down in his lap and looks at Stiles.

“Honey, what the fuck are you talking about?”

Stiles grimaces, “Well, I must be scared that Brod is going to do something stupid and die, right? So I have to keep him near me at all times. Derek has been a martyr before, but he’s pretty good the second he has someone else to care for. He’s not as foolhardy as-”

“You think you’re having all these co-dependency issues because of the attack? That was weeks ago, Stiles, Brod’s probably already forgotten.”

“He fucking better not have!” Stiles yells, ignoring Genim’s interruption. Genim grins.

“Well he’s certainly not going to now.” he quips, watching Stiles carefully. Stiles narrows his eyes.

“Why do you say that?”

“Well, you’re kind of a huge reminder. One might call you a beacon.”

“How am I a reminder? Shit, I really have been hanging on too much, haven’t I? Like a fucking barnacle, like that damned pirate captain. I’ve been trying to do better, Gennie, I really have! I try to have Derek stand in-”

“That won’t work.”

“Why the fuck not!?” Stiles yells, suddenly realizing his agitation. He’s shivering because there’s something he knows, but he can’t look at it. Won’t see it, he can’t. Broderek appears out of nowhere and rushes to Stiles, holding him strongly in his arms until Stiles is at peace and then kisses him sweetly on the lips.

Once satisfied of Stiles’ state, Broderek turns to Genim, kissing him on the forehead and goes back outside. Stiles breathes deep inhalations and he feels tears sting the back of his eyes.

“How long is this going to go on?” He asks, though it’s not a question. Or it is, but it’s wholly unnecessary. He mouths along when Genim says ‘ _six months_ ’ and he closes his eyes, allowing the tears to spill over his cheeks like a waterfall. He can hear the rushing of his blood as it pumps through his heart which he can feel in his ears punctuated by the rest of Genim’s words.

“Once the baby gets here, you’ll be back to yourself, but until then… It’s okay. Broderek doesn’t mind.”

Stiles feels a hand on his knee and a soft piece of cloth dabbing at his tears. He smiles.

“Is that one of my kids’ socks?”

“It was either that or my ass.”

Stiles huffs out a laugh and finally opens his eyes. Genim straddles him and Stiles buries his face in the omega’s chest.

“What the fuck, Gennie?”

“You’re having a baby.”

Genim smiles and wraps himself around Stiles. Stiles knows he’s going to start pushing out pheromones, something soothing to keep Stiles calm, if only for the sake of the baby. And Stiles will let him.

And everything will be okay.

Even when it’s absolutely fucking not.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much! Feel free to leave comments and kudos!


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